


Untimely Witness

by dat_heichou



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, M/M, because this is just sadness and pain, canonverse violence and death, i'm sorry for this and i owe the jm fandom fluff later, just pain and suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6271894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dat_heichou/pseuds/dat_heichou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the battle for Trost, Jean hears a familiar voice cry out for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untimely Witness

**Author's Note:**

> Yatomochi asked me to write a "Jeanmarco AU where Jean witnesses Marco die(he sees that Annie steal his gear but he cant do anything(preoccupied fighting a titan?)and just as he finally fights off the titan hes like "Marco! I'm coming to get you!" to go help him but then you-know-what happens and Jean holds his dying(half of a) friend in his arms and he's not sure who to blame but mostly blames himself. Err..you don't have to write this if its too angsty/gory just a suggestion but I always thought "what if Jean saw Marco die""
> 
> So yeah, here's some angst. I'm sorry.

Considering how many screams Jean had heard that day, it was a miracle that he was able to notice one in particular.  If he hadn’t been keeping an eye out for his best friend, then he might have missed it entirely.  

When Marco screamed, Jean must have been _just_ close enough to hear his familiar voice. He wasn’t quite close enough to get a clear view, with titans and broken buildings haphazardly between them.  Jean could clearly see that someone was holding Marco down while someone else was throwing away what looked like 3DM gear, but that made no sense.  At a time of attack, why would someone turn on their fellow soldier?  Why _Marco?_ For a few priceless seconds, Jean was too dumbfounded to move.

He could hear Marco screaming, _begging_ them to not leave him there, to _talk things out_.  At hearing the break in his friend’s voice, Jean finally broke out of his thoughtless trance, jumping off the roof where he was perched to try and maneuver himself closer.

He was almost there; too busy watching Marco sob to notice the titan coming between them.  It’s only when Jean nearly crashes into its fleshy chest that he redirects himself, reflexively slicing at the fingers that reach out to grab him.

“Marco, I’m coming!” he screams, announcing his proximity in the hopes that it will help calm them. Or at least comfort Marco, because Jean hasn’t been further from _calm_ the whole hellhole of a day.  The titan is determined, snapping its jaws at him and continuing to reach for Jean’s tired legs.  Jean can’t seem to get enough speed and distance to circle around to its nape and finally kill it.  He can’t see around the titan, can’t see where Marco is lying unarmed and helpless, and that terrifies him more than the beast that’s currently trying to shove him down its gullet.

“ _JEAN!!”_

If Jean was panicked before, then hearing his best friend cry his name practically _kills_ him.  There is more emotion in that one word than in all of those tearful pleas and screams that Jean could barely hear.  There is hope, and there is fear, and there is panic, and there is desperation, all in one word.  It simultaneously feels like Jean’s heart has stopped and escaped his chest, running to find what on earth has made his friend so much more afraid than he was before.

Jean’s previously sluggish movements become more rushed, hurried, _frenzied,_ trying desperately to get past the giant bloody arms to get to the nape, just to get past this giant man-eating obstacle.  How he managed to finally kill the awful creature, Jean later does not remember, because the minute he plunges his blade into the back of its neck, he can _finally_ see Marco again.

And it’s terrifying.

Marco is no longer on the rooftop.  Instead, he is clenched in the fist of another titan, trying in vain to try and wriggle out of its grip.  

He’s still too far, and Jean knows it, but like _hell_ is he not gonna try.  He releases the gas out of his air tanks at full speed, rocketing faster than he entirely knows how to control.

Marco looks up, and Jean can see the glisten of tears in his eyes, even from this distance.  Jean can see his name as it’s breathed across his best friend’s lips as the titan snaps down its jaws.

Jean’s throat releases the most guttural yell he’s ever made, frustration, anger, disbelief, and _pain_ all mingling, choking him as he still hurtles closer, no longer in full control of his gear.  There’s a tingling numbness throughout his whole body, it seems, and all he can do is cry.  The titan drops Marco’s body like a bloody sack of flour, _done with him._

Jean cries out again, screaming his best friend’s name like it’s the only word he remembers.  In these moments, it is.  He gags on the words that used to come so smoothly to his lips, coughing over the snot and tears blurring his vision before spilling into his open mouth.  

He almost forgot he was moving, being propelled at maximum speed through the air of the battlefield, until he is suddenly close enough to catch the broken shell of his best friend’s body in his arms.  It’s unbearably light, incomplete, and it’s all Jean can do to land on the ground as his vision fully blurs over with his tears.

He cradles Marco’s bloody head to his chest, praying to the shattered walls around them that he’ll wake up from this nightmare.  That they’ll both wake up.  And then they’ll join the Military Police together like they planned for years.

Self-preservation tells him that he cannot stay there, that sentimentality will surely get him killed, but even still it is too hard for him to move.  Everything hurts, and at this point he can’t tell if it’s an internal or external pain.  It might as well be both.  There’s enough blood for two dripping between them onto the dusty bricks beneath his feet.

Looking at his friend’s mangled mess of a face, Jean feels even more tears cascading down his face. What’s left of his big brown eyes is dark and dull, the spark of life minutes gone.  Blood spatter mixes in with what’s left of his freckles, a brutal map of pain upon his skin.

“I’m so sorry, Marco,” He whispers, voice too hoarse for anything louder, “I’m not as strong as you thought I was.”  It kills him to have been so close, so _fucking_ close, but still manage to be useless.  Marco’s blood is painting his hands, and it feels like it will never wash away.

A signal flare goes off, breaking Jean’s attention.  As he looks up at the smoke that curls above the devastated remains of Trost, the weight of his friend’s death heavy in his arms, Jean realizes that the Military Police is not the ‘fix-all solution’ he used to wholeheartedly believe in.  The death that fills this obliterated city is proof that there is no such thing as an easy solution.

As he wants to lay down in defeat over this realization that the world is truly a dark, unsympathetic place, a sudden thought fills his head.  Marco’s words to him almost seem to echo, calmly talking over the hysterical thoughts of fear running rampant.   _Because you’re not strong, you understand what the weak feel like.  You know what has to be done._  The words overtake him, making him gently place Marco down, his body sitting carefully against the wall.  Marco’s words lead him away from the empty body, and somehow Jean manages to get back into the air.

The words continue to rattle around in his head until he arrives, bloody and exhausted, to meet with the remaining members of his squad.  Once Jean sees their sullen, horrified faces at the blood that seals his clothes together, Marco’s words can no longer hold him together.  Even as he cries the few tears he has left, that calm quiet voice urges him to keep fighting, living, _leading_ like he was born to do _._


End file.
